


Snow

by cutelilbitch



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M, Playing in the Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 11:25:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1303162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutelilbitch/pseuds/cutelilbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The progression of Theon and Robb's relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Still a work in progress. Hope ya'll enjoy it! And I'm sorry if it's not very well done.

Snow. Theon could clearly remember the first time he had witnessed it, and how in awe of it he had been. In his naïve state he had thought it was absolutely amazing, watching with wide eyes as it drifted down so peacefully from the grey skies and blanketed the ground. It created a completely foreign landscape from the Iron Islands, the only place he had known until he had been sent away to become a ward of the Starks.

  
His brothers had told him horror stories about the Stark’s, and how they were savages, more like wolves than men. During the war, no name was hissed with more animosity than Stark and he had been witness to the horror these beast men brought to the Iron Islands when his brothers were slaughtered. That was why fear flooded into his heart the day his father struck the compromise that ended the war, treating Theon as little more than a disposable playing piece used to appease the power’s that had brought Balon to his knees.

  
The only person who had come to see him off, was his older sister, Asha. She bid him a simple fairwell with little more to say than, “Be brave”, before departing so she could attend to matters of much more importance than the departure of another lost brother.

  
It was strange how easily it all faded away into the horizon, like it never existed, his family, the war, his home, all lost to the churning sea. He had always been taught that all that is and ever would be, began, and would end, with the ocean and he started to truly believe that after what felt like a decade with nothing but a rotting hull and endless dark waters surrounding him.

  
He found himself wondering if you could smell the pungent sea from Winterfell, hear the gulls call, or taste the salt on your lips. Theon would also drifted to thoughts of the notorious Stark’s and what designs they might have for him. Everything he had heard of the Northern Lord’s was worse than the next, from them being part beast, to savages who flayed the flesh off live men. A sharp spray of ocean water jolted him from his thoughts as the boat pitched into the dark waters, and he was greeted with his first glimpse of the mainland.

  
As they drew closer he was astonished by how gentle the coastline appeared in comparison to the jagged dark teeth that lined the shores of home. It appeared so welcoming with its soft rolling sands, yet Theon could not suppress the pool of dread that welled up in the pit of his stomach. He scanned the beaches searching for masses of armed barbarians, readying himself for the worst. Instead, his eyes fell upon a single man on the beach.

  
The sailors began to call out as they lay anchor and prepared the rowboat, and Theon ran to collect his meager belongings. He had only been allowed to bring a small rucksack filled with worn clothes, but he had managed to sneak the bow Asha had bought for him aboard. He fished it out of its hiding place behind several barrels and ran his fingers over the smooth engraved dark wood.

  
“You must be near out of your damned mind if you believe you’re leaving with that, boy.”

  
Theon’s head snapped up, startled by the large man who had just entered the room. He backed away several stepped before collecting himself enough to speak. “It’s mine. It’ll go with me.”

  
The man guffawed, shaking his head. “I don’t care who it belonged to. It’s mine now.”

  
“You don’t seem to understand who you are talking to!” Theon could feel a mixture of anger and fear boiling up.

  
This only made the man laugh hard. “No, you don’t seem to get this. You aren’t anything anymore boy. You ain’t even shit under my boot.” With that the man yanked the bow from the boy’s grasp.

  
Theon wasn’t about to give up without a fight though, as he threw his small frame against the man putting all his weight into a punch to the gut. It did very little than to infuriate the man though, as he struck the young boy across the face causing Theon to taste blood. The sailor then lifted him up and sent him hurtling out of the room, landing with a loud thud against the wood. The rest of the crew paused a moment before turning a blind eye to the whole matter, choosing to focus instead of the tasks at hand.

  
Collecting himself as quickly as possible, Theon staggered up preparing to go another futile round but different sailor grabbed him by the arm, pulling him towards the rowboat. He tossed the boy in before climbing in himself. “You ain’t gonna win that fight, little man.” He mumbled as he collected the oars so they could set off for the shore.

  
“Only the weak don’t fight for what is theirs.” Theon growled, glaring up at the thief even as the rowboat pushed off from the ship.

  
“Only the stupid fight when they know they cannot win. It’s smart to have some fear, it keeps a man level headed. You’ll need to learn that with where you’re going.”

  
Theon quickly returned to silence at the reminder of his current situation. In the moment he had forgotten that he was there to be relinquished to the Starks. He reached to out and pulled his bag to him, clutching it tight, attempting to calm his racing nerves.

  
It felt like both an eternity and blink of an eye before the rowboat lurched against the sand bed. Theon could feel his heart race, stomach seize, and limbs tremble as he clambered out of the boat and turned to face the man that stood so ominously only several yards away. He took several faltering step forward trying to remember his sister words, ‘Be brave’.

  
The man greeted him in a low voice, “I’m Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell.” He was a large, wrapped in furs, and carrying an enormous blade at his side. Power emanated from him and he stared down at the Islander with cold eyes, but there was an unmistakable benevolence to him

  
Theon strove to stand tall, hoping to mask his apprehension, before speaking, but his voice betrayed him, and he stammered. “I’m Theon Greyjoy, son of Balon Greyjoy the lord of the Iron Islands.”

  
“So you are.” Eddard replied before turning around gesturing to someone behind him. A boy, just around Theon’s age, came forward. “This is my son Robb.”

  
“It’s good to meet you.” He said holding out his hand, giving Theon a soft smile.

  
Theon stared at it for a moment, wondering if this was some strange trick. This boy seemed welcoming, even kind; these were not the beast men he had heard of. He dubiously returned the handshake breaking it off quickly and keeping his eyes fixed on Robb the entire time.

  
“Well we had best begin our journey home.” Eddard said nudging his son slightly. Robb looked up at his father and nodded.

  
The journey to Winterfell was rather uneventful, they were silent for the most ride, besides Robb making the occasional comment. Theon spent a good part of the trek watching the Stark’s, trying to judge what kind of people they were. Come the sixth night he still had little understanding of them, and had learned little except for one thing, and that was, that it was impossibly cold here.

  
Come nightfall he could hardly sleep due to the freezing temperatures and he stared longingly at the warm furs that the Stark’s had wrapped about them. He would never voice any desire for a blanket, though, and would end up making due with curling himself up as tight as possible and remaining as close to the fire at nights as he could without burning himself.

  
On the sixth night, though, Robb caught Theon staring at his cloak and creased his brow. “Are you cold?” He asked, scooting around the fire to sit next to Theon.  
“No.” Theon answered, intently gazing into the fire, dead set on not looking at the northerner, to admit to his discomfort felt like an admittance of weakness.

  
“Then you’re shaking like for what? Fun?” Robb raised his eyebrows, and when Theon refused to answer him he sighed and unclasped his cloak passing it to the other boy. “Here. I’m used to the cold.”

  
Theon recoiled as soon as the felt the weight of the furs fall on him. He glared at Robb before snapping. “What do you want from me? I’m fine.” He shrugged off the cloak allowing it to fall to the grounds between them.

  
“I just wanted to help.” Robb said quietly, stretching down to pick up his rejected peace offering. “Thought we could be friends, maybe.”

Theon immediately regretted his actions as he saw the down trodden expression on the boy’s face. “Wait,” he called out, “we can just… share it.” He quickly looked at the ground, once again not wanting to match the other boy’s gaze.

  
Robb did that same small smile from before, moving back over next to Theon and draping the cloak on both their shoulders. They stayed there for most of the night, huddled around the fire in mutual agreement to silence.

  
From that day onward, Theon would answer when Robb would make his comments and Eddard would look warmly in their direction, as if he approved of his son’s determination to befriend the Islander. This allowed the last few days to go by much faster with less animosity and cold.

  
Their final day, Winterell began to rise up over the horizon, a massive monument to the power of the North, and the skies were dark grey with clouds. As they approached Theon froze in his tracks, his eyes focused on the sky. “What is that?” Theon asked, eyes wide.

  
“That’s Winterfell.” Robb answered, confused by the way the other was intently staring upward.

  
Theon looked over at him and shook his head before pointing up to the sky where white flakes of were drifting down from the above.  
“Oh! That’s snow.” Robb replied, bewildered as to how someone could not understand what snow was.

  
“It’s beautiful.” Theon held out a splayed hand to catch the delicate flakes watching with wonder as they melted against his skin.

  
“Have you never seen snow before?” Robb inquired, and when Theon shook his head he grinned. “Then you haven’t ever had a snow ball fight have you?”

  
Theon was about to turn to Robb to find out exactly what that was when he caught a ball of powder to his face, sputtering from surprise. “What was that for?!” He yelled, as Robb laughed and began to run away.

  
He chases after him grabbing a hand full of the snow as he ran, and hurled it at the back of Robb’s head. He whooped when it made contact, but in his joy be didn’t think to consider where he was going and suddenly he was skidding across the slick ground and crashing into the other boy.

  
They both fell down in a mass of tangled limbs and Robb struggled to get his barrings, worried that he had overstepped his boundaries. That was, until he turned to find Theon sprawled on the ground laughing.

  
He looked over at Robb and smiled. “That was fun.”

  
“Yeah it was.” He said, returning the grin. He waited a moment before speaking again, hesitantly this time. “And for what it’s worth, you should smile more often. It’s nice.”  
Theon’s raised his eyebrows at Robb but decided to not question him. “I suppose it’s the least I could do for my new Lord.”

  
“Don’t say that. I’d rather just be you’re friend.” Robb replied his brow creasing with frustration.

  
“Fine. That works.” Theon said and couldn’t hold back another laugh as Robb shook the snow from his hair like a dog.

  
As he brushed the snow from his clothes, Theon looked around at the white drifts forming around them and admired it. In that moment he decided it might not be too terrible in Winterfell if it meant having Robb and the snow around.


End file.
